Me and My Moon Garden

Reporter-gardener Anne Marie Chaker in her lunar escape. These days the Nicotiana alata is in peak bloom, unfurling its petals in the evening and perfuming the air with a spicy vanilla scent. Non-plant gadgets adding to the effect: A fountain provides the soothing sounds of water.

Besides being a great fit for road warriors, such specialty gardens can also be a terrific option for beginner gardeners, who are often overwhelmed when they start shopping for plants. In this case, the parameters are clear: White flowers, fragrance, silvery foliage. That narrows the field of options significantly, making it easier for newbies to navigate the nurseries.

A moon garden was one of the first gardens I designed and planted when moving to our first house in suburban Washington, D.C. five years ago. At the time, I knew hardly anything about plants, but did know that the yard needed a lot of work, and that I’d better start digging. I read something about the concept on the Internet, and was hooked on the idea: Long hours at the office meant I wasn’t able to really see my gardening results in the daytime. A garden specifically intended for evenings–when I was actually home–made a lot of sense.

My mom, visiting at the time and always eager to dive into home-improvement projects, helped me: The first thing we did was dig up an area next to a small porch and amend the soil, which was hard-packed clay. We cleared away some overhanging tree limbs, to let in more light. The mix of plants has changed a bit over the years, but the first perennials I bought for the partly-shady site were shrubs: Summersweet (Clethra alnifolia); Virginia sweetspire (Itea virginica), and a white baptisia (Baptisia alba). An end of season visit to one of the big-box stores resulted in a small Japanese-style fountain purchased at 75% off. I set it on a Christmas-lights sort of timer to turn on in the evening, and Bingo: The trickle of falling water provided instant effect, as did the groupings of white impatients all around it. I still enjoy that fountain and each year, I plant a moonflower vine (Ipomoea alba) beneath it and let it climb.

Over the years, I’ve added. A “Nina Lane” angel’s trumpet (Brugmansia arborea) started from seed—now a small tree—I place out in a pot for ease of overwintering indoors when frost threatens; a night-blooming cereus—a gift from my friend Winston–which I’m thrilled to report is showing its first bud; ‘Casa Blanca’ lilies; tuberose; sweet-autumn clematis (Clematis ternifolia) climbing up an arbor–and loads of white-blooming tulips and daffodils in the spring complete the effect.

In reporting the story and hearing what other gardeners have planted, I’ve been tempted to buy a few more things: One is an extraordinary honeysuckle called “Kintzley’s Ghost” (Lonicera reticulata), discovered a few years ago at a gravesite belonging to a grandson of William “Ped” Kintzley, who propagated plants at Iowa State University in the 1880s. The unusual looking vine produces weird circular bracts reminiscent of eucalyptus, and which turn a silvery white. I purchased mine for $35 directly from Scott Skogerboe, a plant propagator with Fort Collins Wholesale Nursery, who discovered the vine. I also just potted a night-blooming jasmine (Cestrum nocturnum) purchased online for $32 from Porterville, Calif.-based Clifton’s nursery (cliftonsnursery.com) and scattered a few seeds of a zinnia called “Polar Bear.” (50 seeds for $1.60 at localharvest.org).

About Speakeasy

Speakeasy is a blog covering media, entertainment, celebrity and the arts. The publication is produced by Barbara Chai and Jonathan Welsh with contributions from the Wall Street Journal staff and others. Write to us at speakeasy@wsj.com or follow us on Twitter at @WSJSpeakeasy or individually @barbarachai.